


Heart don't fail me now, Courage don't desert me

by Some_Impossible_Fairytale



Series: Someone Holds Me Safe and Warm [3]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Carenzo besties, Caroline is sick of Klaus' shit, F/M, Human! Caroline, Hybrid Klaus Mikaelson, Italian Mafia, Klaus regrets his life choices, Mild Language, No Humanity Stefan Salvatore, Pining Klaus Mikaelson, Ripper Stefan Salvatore, Stefan is an asshole, True Love, that awkward moment when your true love is best friends with your enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 20:31:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Impossible_Fairytale/pseuds/Some_Impossible_Fairytale
Summary: Most of the time, Klaus and Caroline find each other. But sometimes, Fate likes to give a hand now and then. Especially when Katherine Pierce is around.And Klaus thought reincarnation was one unpredictable bitch.





	Heart don't fail me now, Courage don't desert me

 

 

 

She’s not even mad at Katherine, not really. After all, she knows better than anyone the desperation that comes with survival. Yet where she has failed, Katherine has succeeded time and time again. So maybe Katherine’s not the only one to benefit from this situation.

Maybe she’s just a tad bitter that Katherine has had 428 years of continuous life whereas, at the present count Caroline’s only on 17. But it hurts too, she’d thought she was Kat’s friend. Not her bargaining chip.

The evening had started out pretty regular, Kat had come by in a cab to the house, like she always did, twiddling her gloved fingers round the chain of that old lapis lazuli cameo necklace that had belonged to her Grammie. She’d smiled brightly at Caroline through the open door, beckoned to her ‘pretty little May Magnolia’ and kissed her cheek fondly before producing a bottle of champagne and two glasses from the darkness at her feet. Nobody did prohibition as well as Katherine Pierce. They were headed to Gloria’s, one of the speakeasies her Daddy funded. He hadn’t been best pleased when he’d found out that Caroline knew about the other side of the family business. But she’d been insulted in return and refused to sing for him, or any of the family, ever again until he dealt her in as it were. So now Caroline’s driver gave her lessons on the weekends, in her own car not a family one and she got to go to all the best parties, no matter who owned the joint. And she gets to work at Gloria’s and keep the money – see her Pop smile proudly at her over the dinner table for going out and earning a living by making the world work for her – in a way that her brothers and cousins haven’t. Caroline had stepped in  to sing one night when Gloria was sick and her voice, sweet and sultry in turn had them crowding out the door. After that she’d been a regular. And she’d supposed that tonight would be no different.

Not that the minute they’d made it down the stairs, Katherine would have turned to her and said “When you wake up, do remember how much fun I’ve made these last few months, before you let him kill me won’t you?” Before Caroline could even ask why she’d want her Daddy to make a hit on Katherine, the darker haired girl had spoken over her, telling her to go to the regular booth, sit down and shut up until she was told otherwise. And for some reason beyond comprehension, here she was doing exactly that. Caroline had no idea what the fuck was going on, but she was a Corleone not some cancelled stamp and the one thing they didn’t do was take orders. Especially not from some jumped up upstage jazz singer, even if she _was_ Caroline’s best friend.

“Katerina? I didn’t think you’d willingly show that pretty face of yours to me again, well, ever if I’m perfectly honest.” The voice is clipped, laced with a sarcastic charm and strangely for this neck of the woods, English. Caroline would be more intrigued but she’s too busy trying to figure out why she hadn’t realised Katherine Pierce wanted to exchange her for her freedom – whatever the hell that meant – and why she’s sitting stock still, unable to move, in one of Gloria’s booths and not calling up her Daddy to come smash this Klaus guy’s face in. Oh. Oh Lord above. Was Katherine in trouble with one of the other families? Was that what this was – she got close to Corleone’s Golden Girl, delivers her up to be used for ransom – and the little bitch gets away scot free?

Caroline wills herself to move. Forces her legs to work. Nothing. She stays exactly where she is. It’s an odd feeling, like being trapped in your body. Her nerves are on fire, burning under skin, like she could be tap-dancing right now but her limbs are heavy like she’s lying on a bed resting.

Realising that for some undeterminable reason, she truly can’t budge until as Kat said she’s ‘told otherwise’ Caroline realises the only other thing to do is listen. Maybe reason with this Klaus guy that she can get him whatever the hell he wants without any harm coming to herself or Katherine. Katherine may be selling her out, maybe their entire friendship has been a lie but that’s another matter for another place. Caroline Corleone will be the one to sort out Katherine Pierce, make her realise that the Corleone family can offer the best protection in the city. Even if she never wants to see the other girl again after tonight. It’s a complicated feeling but then she and Kat are complicated girls.

So instead she listens. Kat’s the one talking now. Her tone’s odd, one she’s never heard Katherine used before, detached but pleading. She evidently doesn’t like this guy, but she’s afraid of him enough to be polite about it. Hm. Whoever this guy is, Caroline thinks, colour me interested.

Absentmindedly she slides the bobby pin securing one golden curl back into place, entwines her fingers around one of her diamond necklaces. She couldn’t bear to cut her long hair when the bob became fashionable, so she spends impressive amounts of time pinning it up every day but she finds it gives her a freedom the other girls lack. Caroline can experiment far better, adding little plaits in different places or threading silver beads into her hair so they catch the light like stars. That’s what she’s done tonight, to accentuate her midnight blue dress with silver thread splashed across the bodice to like the constellations. The only thing that doesn’t really match is the lavaliere Daddy bought her for her last birthday. It’s like Kat’s cameo necklace, an antique which is one of the reasons Caroline never takes it off. She adores old things, has nostalgia real bad but not for her childhood or anything like that. She aches for times she has never lived in, hell once or twice she’s found herself getting misty over portraits of people she wishes she could go back in time to meet. People she feels like would’ve been friends.

Daddy had given her the necklace after taking the family to Florence and finding Caroline, unwittingly lost in one of the galleries trying to muffle tears in a handkerchief. She’d been staring up at the portrait of two young lovers – said to be Francesca de Rimini and Paolo – trying to puzzle out why the turn of Paolo’s blond head seemed so familiar and yet out of character for the Italian. It wasn’t like she knew anything about him beyond Dante’s books but he just didn’t seem to actually be Paolo. She’d been wishing, more than anything, she could see the models faces, that the young Francesca (oddly also blonde, usually artists liked to contrast lovers hair colours) wasn’t obscured by her veil and her love’s cheek. They were hiding the answer to a question Caroline wasn’t sure how to phrase. Anyway, Daddy had said, despite her protestations that she would be fine, that’d she’d looked so unlike his little Carolina, like some poor lady who’d lost her love at sea that he’d pressed the pendant into her hand days early, desperate to see her smile again.

It was beautiful, two golden leaves with little amethyst acorns dangling underneath, a treasure that had apparently belonged to the Russian Tsarina. Caroline doesn’t know why but wearing that little piece of history around her neck, that has endured and kept its beauty, makes her feel brave.

It’s then that Caroline realises that she can move after a fashion. Katherine had said to sit down and while her legs are practically bolted to the floor, so that she remains sitting, her hands can move at least. Caroline feels the terror lift slightly and her breathing ease.

There’s a chuckle, low and dirty from behind the curtain of the private booth in which she is ensconced. “Your meal appears to have relaxed in there Katerina. Shame. I thought you liked them with their blood well and truly pumping”

Katherine appears to have ignored the statement, pressing onwards. “I would have thought you knew by now how dearly I love living. I’d hardly sign my death warrant by killing your beloved now would I?”

Klaus says nothing and Katherine laughs “You didn’t think someone would figure it out? There aren’t as many references to her as there are the rest of you but there was enough. Elijah told me all those years ago your love life was a complicated one but I never could have imagined this. And the paintings you’ve left behind in all those galleries were very helpful. I couldn’t believe it once I saw her”

“You’re talking gibberish Katherine. I should just kill you, retract the mercy I grant you in your every breath”

“We’re friends you know. Me and her. How pleased do you think she’ll be when she finds out you’ve killed her best friend?”

“Her best friend is quite safe I assure you” comes another man’s voice. Also British.

This is the most messed up case of mistaken identity Caroline’s ever had the misfortune to witness. And she’s in the Mafia.

“Grant me my clemency and I won’t have her kill herself. This one doesn’t know a thing about our kind, no vervain so it really would be quite easy. She lives as long as I do. Kill me and how many more years do you think you’ll have to wait to find the next one? Twenty years? Forty? How long have you gone without her? Oh. You’re scared. How long has it been? Forty years now. I doubt she’d approve of the killing spree, taking up with a Ripper no matter how delicious Stefan is.”

“I don’t know who you’re-“ Klaus insists, sounding pained.

“Caroline” she enunciates each syllable of Caroline’s name, like he’s stupid. “Blonde. Very pretty. Lights up a room. I’m rather fond of her myself, I can see why you like her so much. Superb singer. And sitting just behind me. Know the one?”

There’s an odd whooshing sound, a heavy clatter, Kat’s groaning in pain before Klaus roars “SAY THAT AGAIN! Say that again and know that if you’re lying to me, I will skin you”

There’s some low gurgling, the sound of something heavy hitting the ground and then the curtain’s been ripped aside, so that it pools beside the table on the floor. Gloria will be upset, she hates rowdiness in her place. And there’s two men stood shoulder to shoulder staring down at her; both startlingly good looking, one tall and blonde with a jawline to die for, the other shorter and darker looking at her like she’s fucking Atlantis or something.

_“Caroline”_

After that, Caroline’s a little concerned by how civilised everything becomes. Only a little. But she’s the daughter of Don Corleone, she’s watched negotiations of this ilk from the time she could toddle. Markl, her father’s Consigliere was well known to her – had been the one to bang on her door when she and father were at odds, when Mama had thrown up her hands and got on the phone to him rather than try to deal with the two rompicoglioni she lived with, when she’d wanted to establish herself as the Queen of the neighbourhood.

Turns out these bozos are called Niklaus Mikaelson and Lorenzo St. John and they’re a pair of pussycats. Or at least, they’re trying to be. She doesn’t see why she deserves such different treatment to Katherine. Especially since they reacted to her first name not her fathers.

Klaus and his friend Enzo are sitting across from Katherine and herself.  Since they all sat down together, Katherine had muttered ‘now’ and she’d been able to move and talk freely. Something called compulsion according to Klaus, who’s eying Kat particularly distastefully when he says it. Caroline thinks briefly that rather than getting het up in how that’s precisely accomplished, something nagging in her brain about the whole thing, she’ll make Katherine tell her later. The other girl owes her that much at least. They’re asking her all sorts of questions about herself like how old she is, what she does with her time, how long she’s been coming to Gloria’s.

If they’re going to kill her she’d rather they just got on with it. She says as much, acting much braver than she feels, chin jutting out. She won’t give these bastards a thing. Her bravado doesn’t get the reaction she’s expecting from either man – rather than laughing darkly or contradicting her, the pair of them look horrified by the thought. Mr. St. John, who’d insisted on her calling him Enzo actually reaches a hand across the table towards her. He looks hurt when she recoils away from his touch but it’s only fleeting, before explaining that they’d been most anxious to meet her is all.

“Neither of us would dream of hurting you Caroline. We’ve – we’ve just heard so much about you from Katherine here. We know we’re being forward but when we bumped into her and she said you were here, we couldn’t resist the urge to engage the pleasure of your company”

It’s a pathetic bald faced lie and Caroline marvels at his audacity. She looks incredulously round the table at the three of them “Seriously? Because that’s not what it sounded like from back here. You either tell me the truth or you beat it, how bout that?”

Enzo looks from her to Klaus, who hasn’t said much during the whole thing to be honest, just looking rather plaintively at her. His eyebrow is raised and he’s grinning like Christmas has come early, clearly on her side. Interesting. Clearly Klaus is the one in charge, but he’s worried about offending her. Not because of her family, or her connections but simply because she’s her. Or at least, shares a name with this other girl he seems to have a thing for. She can work with that. Katherine merely shrugs, eyes flitting between the two men before she goes to get up murmuring something about a drink.

It happens so fast Caroline doesn’t see anything until it’s over. One second Katherine’s standing and the next she’s bent double, gasping over the table where her hand has been impaled on a fork.

“On the contrary, you’ll be staying right where I can see you. Forgive me love” he says these last three words incredibly softly to Caroline. “I know you hate violence but believe me when I say this one deserves it. No lasting damage anyway”

Yeah right. She can see the tines of the fork sticking into the table. Caroline’s nails dig deeper into her thigh through the dark blue fabric of her dress, fighting back the bile rising in her throat. She will not scream. She will not throw up. She is a Corleone. She is more than just a Corleone, she is _Caroline Corleone,_ favourite daughter of the Don himself. Whatever game they’re playing, she will not be cowed by anything.

“What first?” Klaus says in a resigned voice “What we are or what we want from you?”

“She looks tasty Klaus” notes a fourth voice jauntily. Another attractive man, barely older than Caroline herself is leaning on the side of the booth, looking straight at her. He has his arms crossed but there’s a big smile on his face and at first glance his eyes seem bright and welcoming. But then, if you look closer, Caroline thinks, she’s beginning to see why this particular guy is making her skin crawl. The smile’s wide and pointed but they eyes are empty. Soulless Caroline thinks.

“Say another word and I’ll tear out your liver” Klaus notes coldly though Enzo is the one who stands, moving in front of Caroline so she is blocked from the other man’s view.

“Lovely clavicle. C’mon Enzo lighten up would you?” he teases, taking in Enzo’s thunderous expression “I thought you were a neck person?”

Enzo huffs a derisive laugh before getting hold of the other man by the throat “I’ll show you just how much of a neck person I am Stefan”

The younger blond – Stefan – doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed by either of these threats, though he struggles to get free. Enzo tuts and mutters something about being older, bigger and meaner than some humanity free runt from Virginia. It’s at this point that Klaus leans forward and wrenches the fork free from Katherine’s hand, pulling her up too. Caroline stands automatically, worried he’s going to throw Katherine at this guy but Klaus merely claps Stefan on the shoulder, like an old friend and says “Go write some names on that wall mate. And while you’re at it, turn the humanity back on there’s a good boy. Rules of the game have changed drastically since this morning.”

Stefan growls, and it’s truly feral in a way Caroline didn’t know the human voice could be and it’s at that moment, the veins rising to prominence under Stefan’s eyes in response that Caroline realises.

Not human.

None of them. There’s the otherworldly strength, the grace of the way they all move – she’s seen film reels of African safaris in the theatre and she supposes that’s why she kept thinking of big cats whenever Kat walked. It’s the same with Klaus, Enzo and Stefan. Predatory. The snake like compulsion that had weighted her legs to lead.

Except whereas Katherine, Enzo and Klaus treat her like an equal, Stefan’s eying her like she’s a meal. Whatever the hell they are, Stefan is the only one who intends her harm.

Fangs. Blood. _Neck person._ Vampire. She’s seen Nosferatu.

Klaus sighs, evidently bored by the way Stefan is struggling, fighting back in a desperate manner, though Klaus is barely touching him. To anyone else it would appear as if Klaus was just leaning comfortably. “Katerina” he drawls and Katherine flinches at the sound of her name, sliding back into her seat, refusing to look at either Klaus or Stefan. Surprisingly, it’s Enzo who rounds the table and yanks her up, pulling her round so that she is forced to stare into the mobster’s eyes. “You turned him. You also care for my – for Caroline. Ergo _you_ will be the one to stay with him until the guilt has subsided enough that he is safe to be around Caroline.”

Was he just about to call Caroline _his?_

Glaring at him with as much contempt as she can muster, Caroline can’t help but feel exceptionally relieved when Stefan finally manages to shrug Klaus grip off and he and Kat slink off together across the club. On the other hand, this leaves Caroline without a friendly face at the table in this negotiation. This tactic fails however when the two men simply smile at each other, nonplussed about her reaction to their rough tactics. Klaus had been right, Caroline does abhor violence no matter how many times she sees it and she’d dearly love to know how he knows **that.**

“I don’t know why you ever called him brother. Brothers don’t give up”.

Klaus smiled at Enzo then, something genuine and affectionate, beyond the business like attitude they’ve engaged with so far. His eyes flicker between Enzo and Caroline for a moment and Caroline is suddenly reminded of a young man in military dress grinning over a sea of younger children before he concedes softly “No, they don’t”

Enzo smiles back and Caroline feels privileged to watch this moment, like it’s a milestone passed or hurdle finally jumped. Heaven knows why though.

The headache that’s been building over the course of the evening worsens considerably. They’ve been happening more and more since Florence and she’d be worried it was the moonshine, if Doc Dorrit hadn’t sworn down she was the picture of health. She’d kill for some water right now, but she’s not sure if that’s something she’s supposed to be able to ask for. Most of the families meetings, even the ones conducted in speakeasies and the like are the height of civility. Okay, sure, sometimes people’s brains rather than their signatures grace contracts and that’s not how Caroline prefers to do things but she understands from Daddy and Markl that’s business sometimes.

“Could I have some water please?” she asks politely, from under her eyelashes for good measure.

Something about the gesture makes Enzo snort affectionately and he stands once more, says he’ll get some from the bar before Klaus mutters about telling Gloria instead. Once Enzo’s gone, Caroline feels better. He hadn’t made her feel unsafe or anything like that – quite the opposite and wasn’t that fucking confusing in itself but Klaus is clearly in charge and she’s nothing if not direct.

“Down to brass tacks Mr-“

“Mikaelson” Klaus supplies, looking for all the world amused by her change in tone

“Mr. Mikaelson. Either you want something from my father, which I can assure you, you won’t get by trying anything through me or you want something from me. Which is it?”

“You” he answers again, looking at her like she’s the most endearing thing on the planet, trying for all the world not to laugh.

“What precisely?” she bites out, partly because she may be a woman but this is the twenties for crying out loud and partly because she has a very good idea what. Katherine had said there were paintings of her by him.  Then why, in one of the most notorious speakeasies in the city, sitting with a pair of strangers who could give some of the scariest men she can think of a run for their money does Caroline feel perfectly safe? Like nothing could touch her. Like she’s _home._

“I want you. I want you to remember”

“Remember what?”

Klaus huffs a laugh and rather than answering, pops the collar on his shirt. Underneath, against his skin is a chain, holding three rings. Klaus slips the chain free, slides a thick silver ring over the knuckle of his third finger. It sits snugly, settles into the skin there like it never left. Klaus leaves his hand resting on the table towards her. Caroline gets a desperate urge to fold her fingers into that hand, to see her own rings glistening next to Klaus’ like they have on all the alters through the centuries. To see her rings interweaved with his as they have always been on her fingers. She prefers those three rings because the lapis lazuli sits on her other hand, those rings are a reminder of what they _are_ rather than what has been forced upon them. To remind her, remind him, that they are together, that they will stay together. _Always and forever._

Caroline blinks and the glittering diamonds disappear from her sight, leaving only the thick silver ring on Klaus finger, the scrollwork irritatingly obscured by the way his hand rests on the table. Her own stark skin stares back at her, red nails and empty pink fingers.

“It’ll come to you.” He answers cryptically, an odd expression on his face. Part of her thinks he’s just amused, toying with her in some sick game but the other part looks oddly…hopeful?

“If we’d met before, trust me I would absolutely remember you” It has the desired effect, even more so than she could have possibly imagined; Klaus looks like she’s taken a shot at him. Enzo, coming back from the bar snorts with laughter that he quickly tries to mask as a cough when Klaus glares daggers at him.

“Have you ever been to Russia Caroline?” Klaus forces the words out trying to regain control of the situation. She certainly has Caroline’s fire, her stubbornness blocking even their natural chemistry. He really is going to kill Katerina for this. As pleased as he is that Caroline has returned in one peace, and near a seat of power in the mob (even he had heard of how Corleone doted upon his youngest daughter, though no first name had been mentioned) and that she has had a level of vampiric protection for months now. Mikael is on the move again and leaving Caroline shielded, whether she has emerged or not, is non-negotiable. Whatever the reason Fate draws them together over and over again throughout the centuries, Klaus has always found Caroline in each of her lives. The true trick is trying to predict when and where she will appear but there is no rhyme or reason they have uncovered as of yet. However, Mikael has uncovered her nature by now as well and there has been more than one lifetime where Klaus had only found Caroline’s body, his hope and love gone together with one fell swoop of Mikael’s sword. Closing his eyes for a moment he can’t help but think of Caroline and Anne, how terrified she must have been to die in that way, even though that was a tyrannical human rather than the man Klaus still called Father. Or of the beautiful Italian child who Mikael had come across at ten years old, who had never even had the chance to grow to adulthood.

Caroline shakes her head, mouth in a firm line, disconcerted by yet another change in conversation. Probably wondering when this interview will end. Damn, damn that Petrova bitch. And Elijah wonders why he vowed vengeance on her. She always was a perceptive creature and despite the charm and curiosity in his voice he prays that Fate will be kind. That Caroline will not see the despotism into which he has descended since she died in Paris from which neither Rebekah nor Enzo, with their memories of her could rouse him. He had hated the world that kept snatching her from him, wished to impact it just as badly as the world had wounded him. Kill as many people as she lives she had lived and more. It’s why he had taken up with the Ripper after all. And yet. And yet, though he had not stopped Stefan, Caroline’s influence remained, her hand staying his from beyond the grave, making sure his victims were only those who deserved it rather than the pretty young things he had had to compel Stefan away from.

“Forgive me – the necklace is something of an indicator. Paris then?”

Enzo eyes him sharply but he doesn’t give a damn. Time isn’t something they’ve had very much of and Klaus patience has been thin on the ground for a few decades now.

“Is that where you think you’ve seen me before is it? I hate to disappoint _monsieur_ but we’ve only ever gone on trips home to Italia” the words weighs heavy on her tongue, Alexei and Anatole both clucking their own tongues at her in her mind’s eye. Alexei she thinks in a moment of realisation, pleased to put a name to the man in uniform she’d been thinking of before. Although why she’s thinking of little Anatole as a thirty four year old is beyond her comprehension.

Klaus nods, trying to think of something else with which to call her back. The music box is safe at home and the rings had provoked some reaction but not enough.

“What were they like?” she asks before she realises what she’s doing. Mama had always said her curiosity would get her killed one day, but so far Caroline has always found curiosity to be her salvation. Markl’s always telling Daddy to play nice with the other Families, so maybe Caroline can forge some connections of her own and uncover whatever plot these guys are trying to pull her into without getting their teeth in her neck.

On the other side of the table, Klaus eyes light up. _There you are my love._

He and Enzo begin to animatedly describe Paris, Russia and Italy too, asking her opinion and offering their own thoughts on the places she’s seen as well as recommendations of where she should go the next time.

“Do you remember that time in Rome when Marcel hid in the Trevi Fountain and popped out of the water every-time a girl made a wish?” Enzo crowed, elbowing Klaus, both of them barely able to speak through howls of laughter.

“And said “Milady your wish has been granted!”” Caroline giggled, pleased to have beaten him to the punchline, the memory hazy from all the limoncello they’d drank that night.

That sets Enzo and Klaus howling again, Enzo squeezing her fingers through the gloves delightedly and she remembers how he’d tackled her on the cobbles as Marcel had been helping her out of the water, declaring her Venus reborn….spinning her round in circles so droplets had scattered like diamonds….

The laughter of their little booth dies as all three of them realise what she’s said. Neither man had told her that. So how…

Caroline stands abruptly, knocking over the empty glasses one of Gloria’s girls had kept coming, feeling nauseous to her very core. “Sorry to have interrupted. I- the champagne –“

They both rise with her and suddenly in the heat of the club, the seclusion of the booth, being hidden back here in their own little world Caroline feels like she’s going to vibrate out of her very skin.  

“Excuse me” she ducks away, but her legs are sluggish with drink and sitting down for so long. Enzo and Klaus are with her in a moment and even though she’d barely taken more than three glasses of the stuff, Caroline’s head is spinning. They wouldn’t hurt her they’d said. They’d sent away the one – Stefan – who had meant her harm.

They’re saying her name over and over like a chant, trying to get her attention. _I can’t breathe._

“Mr. Mikaelson. Mr. St. John, there a problem here?” _Gloria_. Like an intervening angel, a vision in white, the owner herself appears before them.

“She’s not herself. We were going to –“

“I can see that, Hybrid. But d’you really think she’ll recover any better in your house just because it’s _yours?_ C’mon, help her through to the back. It’ll be safer there”

Gloria takes Caroline’s hand, making soothing noises, parting through her customers like the Red Sea until they make it to the back office. It’s a room Caroline has spent a great deal of time in, smoking with the girls near closing, or having a cup of tea with Gloria when her Daddy came to speak business. Somewhere she knows and feels safe. “Deep breaths girl, deep breaths. Let it come”

Caroline screws up her eyes to look at Gloria, trying to ignore the way the men are pacing and muttering. She can’t hear a thing they’re saying but the movement of their lips is clear enough. Finally Gloria tuts, and goes to the sideboard, pulling down a glass. When Caroline makes to beg for water, since it was the stronger stuff that got her feeling like this, Gloria hushes her and reaches not for the right cupboard door but the left. _That’s new._

“Here. This’ll help. Mr. Lorenzo here had the brains to ask for something to clear the fog earlier. It’s not the best remedy, but it gets the job done. You should probably start carrying it around with you”

Gloria presses the glass of clear liquid into her hand and seeing her doubt, takes a swig from it before passing it back.

As Caroline knocks it back she speaks again, this time to Caroline herself. “Fate’s a busy lady Caroline. Sometimes we’ve gotta give her a hand.”

The tonic tastes bittersweet, like rosemary and lemon. _Love and Remembrance. Clever lady._ Caroline thinks before she hears someone calling her name, like from a distance. Glassily she turns her head from the witch – there’s the odd one you can trust, she knows that much, thinking of the stark contrast between Gloria and her mother-in-law to see Enzo crouched beside her.

He looks terrified, like he did in the forest fighting the bloodlust or when the ship had pulled out of the Harbour as he and the Mikaelsons sailed to France, eyes darting from the King to her and Anne and back again. Caroline thinks of the different dances they have shared, how they had laughed together at riling up Klaus by their empty flirting when he’d had the gall to flirt with that Petrova doppelgänger to break the curse. _Kat!_ She gapes, love and hate warring in her mind at the girl’s callousness, but also the tender hugs, how Katherine had visited her when she’d had the measles, nursed her, unafraid of sickness, with words of love and comfort. Been her friend… She fights through the headache to find his fingers, twining them with hers in a way that has become their own way of comforting each other, small and secretive in a way her relationship with Klaus is not.

She wishes Alexei was there, and Anatole; the three brothers together, who she misses no matter the decade. It was funny she found, that Enzo had hated Alexei to the same degree which he had been fond of Anatole.

“Gorgeous?” he asks, hand coming up to cup her cheek and Caroline gasps, feeling like she’s back in Rome, breaking through the surface of the fountain’s waters. She chokes on his name, lunging forward as she had done in Russia to wrap her arms around him and breathe in his familiar scent.

“I’ve missed you” she tells him, unwilling to let go of him.

“Me too. Plus que ma proper vie”

“Flatterer”

“To you? Always” he kisses her cheek, fingers running through her hair.

“ _Svass_?” Caroline opens her eyes at the old language. _Nik._ That’s the problem with waking up, with reincarnation on the whole. How it rips you apart from the inside out. If she keeps her back to him, she can imagine they’re in the village, standing under the old White Oak tree. She can pretend, even if only for a moment, that none of the last centuries have happened at all, that they are blessed, standing at the beginning once again. That in her absence he has not made friends with a Ripper of all people, who tortures the doppelgänger who despite helping break the curse had refused to prolong their contract, taking the immortality he had promised rather than condemn her family to an eternity of blood donations. Not that Caroline had been around for that part of the deal, Trevor had impaled her on a tree in the chaos long before that (that’s one death Caroline did not feel regret in hearing about) but Kol had caught her up on the stuff she’s missed since then. That’s one thing, if Enzo won’t tell her, Kol will. She just hopes he’s not back in his box again.

“Caroline?” she feels light fingers on her shoulders, feeling his desperation.

_“How could you?”_

Enzo and Gloria flinch and whilst the witch withdraws, Enzo’ll have to stay till the bitter end.

“There, darling, no need to make a scene” words her best friend has used hundreds of times over hundreds of years. Caroline narrows her eyes at his words and Enzo is reminded of the fact of the three of them, _she’s_ the genuine mobster. As if Caroline wasn’t terrifying enough as it was.

“Caroline, _svass_ , **please** ”

Finally, Caroline turns around and thanks God for whoever created tuxedos. Nik himself, is a mess and Caroline thinks wryly, this is probably the first time he’s gotten close to true emotions since the 1890’s in Paris. His hands are clenching and unclenching by his side. She hadn’t realised how much he’d been running his hands through his hair until she sees the way the gel is coming away from his scalp. Coughing, Caroline’s head comes back and she straightens.

“Hello Nik” and she’s suddenly smiling, thinking of the last time they saw each other, listening to Achille playing for Lily. They cross the room and he’s **here,** and Caroline’s never been as grateful for immortality as she is for the fact that Klaus and Enzo just have to find her through the intervening years rather than the three of them having to find each other. Feeling those strong hands come up to encircle her back as he just holds her, as they breathe each other in, hearts beating together. The fog in her mind dissipating breath by breath.

Caroline is suddenly struck by the absurdity of this life, meeting in a speakeasy during Prohibition. The Original Hybrid and the Mobster’s daughter. She tries to choke the laughter in Klaus’ shoulder, but sure enough after a moment he pulls back, concerned.

“You have to face my Daddy” she says from behind her hand. Naturally, he scowls and Enzo’s the one who starts laughing. Caroline’s fingers find their way to the lavaliere as she starts imagining how _that_ particular meeting’s gunna go, hanging around her neck and feeling the detail of the leaves makes her smile sadly unable not to think of Alexei.  

And that’s when she realises why Francesca and Paolo seemed so familiar to her…

“AND HOW THE HELL COULD YOU LET THE PICTURE ROSETTI DID OF US END UP IN A PUBLIC GALLERY?”

“Sweetheart, nobody knows it’s us anyway and-“

“I’M FULL FRONTAL IN THAT ONE NIK! I DON’T CARE! I KNOW! I’M NOT HAVING PERFECT STRANGERS OGLING ME! BUY IT BACK! NOW! THANKS TO YOU I’M GOING TO HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT MY LITTLE BROTHERS HAVE SEEN A PORTRAIT OF ME TOPLESS CARE OF A DONATION YOU MADE 300 YEARS AGO. NO WONDER ANATOLE CAME BACK TO PARIS LOOKING AT ME STRANGELY AND THAT WAS ANOTHER LIFETIME AGO”

There’s nothing else for it really so she hits him right in the kisser. Well. She was aiming for his mouth but it ends up being his nose. Her hand glances off his unbreakable skin and she curses the fact that she’s still not immortal in the right way before storming out.

“ **And** let Kat have her freedom.” She calls over her shoulder, the female vampire’s words at the beginning of the evening coming back to her “It’s not her fault, Trevor was such a brain dead moron.” Klaus scowl deepens but he jerks his head in a way that Caroline knows to mean she’s won.

“I think you broke my nose” Klaus complains behind her, sounding surprised.

Caroline rolls her eyes, not caring whether he’s faking injury to make her feel better or she has actually inflicted damage

“Men are such babies” she mutters, nonetheless going off in search of Bex, sure the younger Mikaelson is around here somewhere and hoping she’s had the sense to get the giggle water in.

Left alone in Gloria’s back room, Enzo pulls a battered notepad from his jacket pocket, flicking through the pages to scratch a mark in Caroline’s score column, still laughing to himself.

∞

Caroline and Klaus are lounging in the Mikaelson mansion in Los Angeles, re-watching _Dracula_ on the flat screen, Caroline giggling at the inaccuracies of the supernatural until during one particular scene when she suddenly screams out “OH MY GOD”

Klaus is immediately on guard, sitting up and turning to check her for any injuries. He draws her closer into his side when he sees she’s unharmed lest a bad memory from the ‘20s has surfaced again. Whether it’s her death or the first time she saw a vampire’s true face in that life, he tries hard to ground her in the here and now. This is her life now as Caroline _Forbes._ No more running, no more death. She’s decided, now that the film has been completed and she has won her awards for costume design that she might turn soon. Before she hadn’t wanted to risk the lives of her friends and colleagues as a baby vampire. Now she has Klaus, Enzo and the rest of the Mikaelsons to keep her in check. Including their son Marcel who flew in yesterday, who had practically tackled her at the arrivals gate.

Klaus and Enzo are not the only ones who have missed her.

It’s only after Caroline leans forward and loudly asks no-one in particular “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” that Klaus realises she’s paused the movie and is pointing at the screen. Eyes following her finger Klaus sees the floor of Dracula’s castle, large rat like creatures crawling around.

“I USED TO BE SCARED OF ARMADILLOS?!”

Looking closer, Klaus sees that the supposed creatures from hell really are little armadillos shuffling about. The film industry have always been ingenious. He won’t laugh, he really mustn’t laugh.

_I’ll show him what it really means when a Corleone goes to the mattresses._

Marcel comes in the door to see Caroline sitting on top of Klaus on the living room sofa, pummelling his chest with ineffective human fists shouting over and over again “IT’S NOT FUNNY” while Klaus is beneath her, inconsolable with laughter.

His parents are disgusting no matter the century.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a fair bit of 1920's slang in this so bear with me :) 
> 
> Svass - old norse - beloved
> 
> Plus que ma propre vie - french - more than my own life (yes I took this from Twilight but stuff it, it fits with their friendship)
> 
> cancelled stamp - 1920's - wallflower
> 
> upstage - 1920's - arrogant, snobbish
> 
> rompicoglioni - Italian - cabbage heads
> 
> Limoncello - should you ever taste genuine Italian limoncello - its delicious, lemony fucking rocket fuel, one shot glass had me tipsy after a full dinner.
> 
> Sure enough, the film industry used to use armadillos to represent hellish creatures, because the wider public had never seen them. There were hyenas used in Nosferatu which was made in the 20s but armadillos in Dracula (used in both the 20's and 30's) so I'm assuming Caroline would have seen them in the 20s in another film. 
> 
> Francesca and Paolo were two 14th century Italian lovers mentioned in Dante's Inferno. They were rival families and basically Francesca was married to Paolo's brother Giovanni who was nicknamed the Grotesque. However Francesca thought that the handsome Paolo WAS her husband, because Paolo had stood in for his brother at the proxy wedding ceremony. You can imagine the nasty shock Francesca got when Giovanni got into the marriage bed instead of handsome Paolo. Basically they're fathers were shits. They carried on the affair for several years, until Giovanni comes home one day, surprises them and a fight ensues. Francesca steps in front of the sword and dies first, followed by Paolo. 
> 
> Rossetti did paint this story, but the version Caroline describes is purely imaginary. 
> 
> Achille and Lily from the 1890's is Claude DeBussy and his wife who lived in the Rue de Berlin where I based Caroline in Paris.


End file.
